


hopelessly hopeful

by posieau



Category: Legacies (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Inspired by The Vampire Diaries, Legacies, josie is clueless as you would guess, letters between penelope and her 'closest confidant' in a search for loooove, penelope is a nerd in this dont @ me, posie - Freeform, posie fluff, shes also hopelessly into josie obviously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-07-30 13:43:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20098141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/posieau/pseuds/posieau
Summary: in which ms. penelope park tries to find her other half before she turns twenty





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ok this is my FIRST work so don't be mean i'm just trying it out, and also this thought just felt really cute in my head idk. i hope you like it!

My Dearest Confidant,

You know what’s _really_ annoying? 

In the movies where the protagonist is a deceitful, no good, piece of _work_, even _they_ get an SO. They don’t even have to work that hard for it, their “other half” just happens to _fall_ into their laps! And at the age of like sixteen! I’m nineteen and I’d like to think I’m a decent person (unless you ask Lizzie Saltzman), but do you see me with a girlfriend? No.

And I don’t get it either; I’m not deeply average, I have enough skills and interests to make me my own person but not enough for me to be _Nightcrawler_ strange. I’ve got my fair share of emotional baggage and past traumas but it’s not like I’ve ever had to choose between being with my family in heaven or my boyfriend whose only semi-redeemable quality is that he’s in a somewhat successful band. And yeah, I’ve had an occasional crush here and there, but I haven’t locked eyes with someone across a crowded room and instantly fallen in love with them. And yeah, I'm pretty good looking, but no one would notice that with the whole nerd vibe I’ve got going on right now. Even if my crush of four...embarrassing years graced a look in my direction, it would probably be to look _over _ me and to her sister. And _sure_ I have secrets, but none that are gonna get me stalked and threatened by an anonymous virtual figure. So really, I have nothing to complain about.

_But here’s the thing._

Lou Bloom intentionally killed his coworker for clickbait and still somehow got the lead editor to bone him. Satine had a lot going on in her life, including fake relationships and an—interesting—career but still has Ewan McGregor wrapped around her perfectly manicured finger. Even Chloe Grace Moretz in that one movie with the car accident (the name escapes me), one minute she was glancing at this “mysterious and misunderstood” no good teenage indie boy in the hallway and one thing leads to another and **BAM** suddenly they’re having sex under a fake Orpheum ceiling. Even the five girls from Pretty Little Liars who are _constantly_ being chased by a super ominous (and at times very obvious) psychopath STILL MANAGED TO HAVE LOVE LIVES. So, I guess my question is:

_What am I missing? _

Thus far in life, I’ve chalked it up to the hyper-sexualization of teen relationships in media, but then I remembered that a lot of my friends actually _have_ these really dramatic and weird situations happen to them. Is it because of television and movies? Or does the media reflect these incidents? Whatever the case is I am being excluded and I do **NOT** appreciate it.

This unfair treatment from the world to me has encouraged and inspired me to write a short entry on the ultimate human pursuit:  
**The Search for the Perfect Soulmate**

Now, I know what you’re thinking.  
_Perfect soulmate? Just enjoy your life as you are right now! You don’t need someone else to be happy! _

And my response to this is: I am BORED. I am NINETEEN. And I have NEVER been in a real relationship. Also, my coven is kind of expecting me to get married and pop out some mini-me’s by the time I hit my thirties.

To this you might say: _Then just go on tinder and settle for the first decent match you get, you’re in a school FULL of people like you, there’s bound to be someone!_

Which would force me to respond: I already tried that. I have learned Salvatore has less than desirable results. I mean, except for like one person but we’re not getting into that on our _first_ entry.

I realize on this quest for romance I don’t have the luxury of being picky—especially with how narrowed the dating pool is for me already given my current… situation—_but_ I do believe there is someone out there in the wide, wide world for me. I just think they happen to be on the complete _opposite_ side of it. And I bet they speak a different language (call it a hunch, or just my horrible luck). This search is the only logical solution to my problem at hand, and I am forcing you to help me because I am: clueless.

Sincerely,  
Penelope Park


	2. you did what?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the brotp is introduced and explained, and so is everyone else

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if it's taking a bit to make, i'm literally writing this in the breaks i get.
> 
> this was written out of boredom, then anger, and then idle hands so if there's a shifting tone, that's because i'm dumb

Park, 

You know what’s _really_ annoying? You. 

I literally live in the same room as you why couldn’t we just have a normal conversation instead of this weird _Notebook_ vibe you’re going for? 

And for the record, the fact that you of all people are comparing real life to made up and far-fetched scenarios completely orchestrated in Hollywood is amusing and concerning at the same time. And that is the ONLY reason I’m agreeing to help you in this absolutely insane ‘search for love’. 

I’m gonna take a wild guess at why you haven’t had a girlfriend yet and say it has something to do with the fact that you’re insanely hard to get to know. I’ve been your roommate for two years and you _ignored_ me for the first three months, so it’s not exactly easy to get you talking. 

So, out of pure boredom and concern for your well-being, lets address this ‘entry’ of yours in steps:

1\. Let’s not pretend that you were gonna listen to your coven in the first place anyway, so the whole ‘my coven expects me to marry and reproduce’ thing isn't even valid

2\. You can’t expect to go on Tinder and find anything else other than hormonal wolves and tempered vampires. The fact that you even ventured that far and expected results is just—it’s laughable. 

3\. We're also gonna address the ukulele-playing, brown-eyed siphon elephant in the room: Josie Saltzman. You need to actually _talk_ to her if you want that to go anywhere at all. And before you say you have, annoying the living daylight out of her sister doesn’t count. Like at all.

Aside from the fact that this search is completely futile, I really do believe you’re a catch. You’ll never hear me say that in my life ever again, and no this is not me coming on to you so don’t even think about it. Taking all of this under consideration, I propose we change the name, maybe some of the following—

“_Penelope’s Destiny_? Really? That’s the _best_ you could come up with.” The witch scans the rest of the name propositions with a snicker every now and then—Hope really went all out, which makes her think the tribrid’s going to enjoy this more than she thought—before her roommate rolls her eyes in annoyance. 

“At least it’s not _The Search for the Perfect Soulmate_. I mean come on what is this, a Nicholas Sparks novel? You can do better, all I’m saying.”

Hope was lying on her bed attempting to BS her way through the pointless Magical Creature Anatomy homework she had. Papers were strewn everywhere, but the phone buzzing on top of all her work was an indication that she wasn’t trying all that hard. 

Penelope had the same homework on her desk, untouched and neglected. On her bed however were magazines and self-help novels on finding that ‘special someone’ (even though she called them ‘scholarly journals’ and ‘research texts’). 

Hope’s eyebrows furrow in confusion at the illustration of a completely foreign bone she _should_ know. 

“Uh, Peez do yo—”  
“_Magical Journey to the Heart_? Really? Like you were one hundred percent lucid and sober when you wrote that?” 

The witch drops her head on the book underneath the letter in loud and boisterous laughter. _And she said she didn’t care_. Hope’s eyes roll further back in her head if even possible and she buries her head in her hands in frustration and just a little bit of embarrassment.

“Oh my god just finish the letter and get it over with, _please_ for my sake.” The words are mumbled into her hands with a deep sigh. Penelope’s still snickering as she returns her attention to the letter with a resigned “ok ok.” She clears her throat and continues,

Anyway, take your pick at the names and then please address the more pressing concerns I mentioned earlier, specifically number three. And if I see any more harassment on your end against my girlfriend, I will castrate you. 

Not Sincerely At All,  
Hope Mikaelson.

“Wow Mikaelson, careful or I’ll start to think you actually care about me.”

Penelope folds up the letter and gets up to place it on her desk where her homework is sitting. Hope groans in response to her sarcastic comment, whether it was actually in response to Penelope, or her inability to figure out where the _duovenenumos_ joint is. She easily fills out the homework that’s taken Hope two hours to complete, but in less than five minutes.

“Wouldn’t want you to get the wrong ide—hey, wait what? _How_ are you doing it so fast?” 

Penelope shrugs and spins her desk chair while finishing the paper. She looks over her shoulder to her roommate whose hands are massaging her temples. She smirks and flicks her hand in Hope’s direction, making her paper float towards Penelope’s desk. 

One thing Penelope was known for in the Salvatore School was her impeccable knowledge about anything and everything in the academic realm. You could call her a nerd of sorts, but she didn’t fall under the assumed stereotypes of the comic-loving, cosplay-wearing, glasses-sporting, Star Wars-obsessed fanatic. Not publicly anyway. 

She knew what assets she had, and she knew how to flaunt and utilize them to look good. That being said, she wasn’t actively trying to get people to fall for her. She found that the school she went at severely lacked eye candy that also had the capability to function as a decent person. Simply put, no one caught her interest—no one except Josie anyway.

When she and Hope were paired together as roommates two years ago, she thought they wouldn’t really interact much, and that they would go to their own spaces for most of the time. Oh, she was wrong. 

You see, Hope is kind of famous. Aside from the whole tribrid thing, and the fact that her dad is, you know…Klaus Mikaelson, she was a notoriously great Wickery player. To the point where she’s considered a jock. And as you may imagine, jocks and nerds don’t easily mix. But just as Penelope wasn’t your average nerd, she found that Hope turned out to be much more than a meathead.

Their friendship is unusual to say the least, and not often understood by the likes of Hope’s cheerleading girlfriend, but it’s a pure and honest one if any. Aside from the three months that Penelope actually pretended Hope didn’t exist (for the sake of preserving her brain cells obviously), they were best friends from the start. 

“These are all wrong.” She starts marking the areas of Hope’s paper that’s incorrect in pencil before floating it back to Hope, who has completely given up and resumed texting her girlfriend. With a slight pout still on her face, her eyebrows furrow further, “How do you catch on to this stuff so fast, there’s so much to memorize.” 

Another shrug. “As for your concerns I will not be approaching Josie. In case you forgot, she doesn’t even know who I am, she just recognizes my face as the one girl who was responsible for Lizzie’s Library Disaster.”  
Ah yes, the feud between Penelope and Lizzie Saltzman. It wasn’t particularly vicious, it was just… memorable. Lizzie is the type of cheerleader that likes to be the best at everything. She isn’t necessarily a bad person, just irritatingly present in every event, ever. 

So naturally, when it came to a nearly impossible trick question in Potion Chemistry, it was no surprise that a pale hand shot out in the classroom, waving it eagerly among few other hands with a smug Saltzman attached to it. Penelope could have sworn the professor rolled her eyes. 

“Lizzie, you have an answer?” The blonde siphon lowered her hand and smiled that know-it-all smile before talking.

“Two petals of wolfsbane and half of a crushed vervain root.” 

Professor McNamara smiled that same cheeky smile right back at her and said (with too much enjoyment), “Actually, that is incorrect.” 

This was where it started going south. Ms. McNamara scanned the room to see if anyone had an answer before she spotted a sleeping Penelope Park behind Lizzie. She had stayed up studying for her History of Magical Beasts exam and was completely drained. 

“Ms. Park?” Penelope snored in response. A couple students snickered around the classroom before someone kicked her leg, making her snap awake. “Huh? Hm, what sorry?” When she woke up, none other than Josie Saltzman was looking back at her with a small smile of amusement on her face. Penelope furrowed her eyebrows and almost waved at her like an idiot in front of the class before the siphon tilted her head towards the teacher. 

Lizzie was laughing loudly over the giggles of some students, glad the attention wasn’t on her anymore. The professor side-eyed her before continuing, “Could you answer the question please miss Park?” 

Penelope tried to recover from her small interaction with Josie and scanned the board with ease before sleepily responding. “Yeah uh, three crushed wolfsbane petals heated with an ounce of liquid vervain and another half-ounce of vampire blood. Mix thoroughly.” 

Not surprised in the slightest, the professor smiled and turned to the board, “That is correct, well done miss Park. You may continue your nap. See, miss Saltzman, being first doesn’t mean you’re right.”  
  
Maybe it was the sleepy way she said it, or the fact that it took just five seconds for her to come to the conclusion, but Josie hadn’t stopped continuing to look at her since she was kicked awake. Penelope could see her out of the corner of her eye as she looked over her shoulder from Lizzie’s side, and it took everything in her to not seem too affected. 

Despite the attention from her crush, Penelope couldn’t help but notice the completely mortified and enraged expression on Lizzie’s face as it continued to get redder and redder. The concern on her face must’ve been enough to get Josie to look at her sister before quietly whispering to her (because everyone knew what the beginning of a Lizzie tantrum looked like, and Josie could _sometimes_ diffuse the situation…sometimes). 

Lizzie loudly got up from her chair and stormed out of the classroom towards the library, not before glaring at one Penelope Park who was still dazed from her barely-interaction with Josie. 

You could guess how the rest went. A fit ensued, Josie was left to pick up all of Lizzie’s mess, and everyone forgot about it the next day. Everyone but Lizzie, anyway. She had made it her personal life goal since then to be better at everything that Penelope Park did. Whether that was school, fashion, or even their respective relationships with Hope. 

If Hope had a good night with Penelope just watching a movie and talking, Lizzie would go out of her way to have an even better date night the next day (not that Hope was complaining). It was one of the things that Penelope and Hope had bonded over in the beginning of their relationship, their mutual amusement in Lizzie Saltzman. 

Penelope didn’t just take it though, if she received a snarky comment, she threw one right back. If a condescending glare was given to her, a simple cheeky smile and wave would do the trick to send Lizzie reeling. It’s safe to say that since that incident two years ago, the rest has been history. 

Sometimes Josie would be with her sister when the two ‘interacted’, and she would occasionally catch the stifled laugh or the amused expression in response to one or two of Penelope’s retaliations. Though this gave her hope that her crush maybe knew of her existence, it was probably as no one more than the bane of her sibling’s existence; Penelope didn’t go out of her way to find out.

Hope’s voice brought her back to the present, “You know, maybe if you went to one of my games you could settle your feud with my girlfriend. It’s basically impossible to spend time with both of you without getting yelled at.” 

It’s Penelope’s turn to roll her eyes. She heads to her bed to collect some of her books and ‘scholarly journals’ as her roommate continues, “Plus, I mean you could get a head start on that plan and talk to Josie.” 

At the mention of her name the witch’s eyes widened and she fumbled with a book in her arms. “Uh, yeah no thanks. I’m ah, I’m good. I’ll just settle for the highlight reel at the end-of-the-season party. Wouldn’t wanna get bored at that game of yours, Mikaelson, I’ll look like a bad friend.” Penelope smirks and attempts to recover from her stutter. 

“You know… if you want to make any kind of progress in that field, you’re gonna have to actually talk to her. Like with words.” Penelope lets out something between a whine and a groan while she flops face first on the now cleaned bed. “I’ve totally talked to her before.”

“Oh yeah? About what.” 

Penelope mumbled something into her comforter. Hope sarcastically stretched her neck out and cupped her ear, “Sorry? What was that?”

“The time! She asked for the time.” 

“The _time_? The time. Please don’t tell me the only words you’ve managed to say to her was the fucking _time_, Park.” 

Instead of gracing Hope with a response, she flipped her off and rolled to her side, propping her head on her hand. 

“I shouldn’t _need_ to talk to her. It’s supposed to just _happen_, y’know?” Hope looks at her roommate in pity as she watches her dramatically flop backwards and continue to talk to the ceiling, “I mean, you—you wouldn’t _get_ it. Your girlfriend is a cheerleader, you’re a star Wickery player. That’s like—like the _ultimate_ scenario of the clichés, man. So fucking unfair.” 

Hope raised her eyebrow but before she could protest, Penelope kept talking. “Don’t get me wrong I’m happy for you, really I am. I mean you deserve to be happy and in love and all that stuff because of your whole disastrous family thing,” she was just ranting at this point. 

“—and no hate on clichés or anything but come _on_. It’s almost laughable! All I want is one date, with one Josie Saltzman, _once_ in my life. But oh no not me because god forgot to grace me with a backbone. So that’s not happening anytime soon. What’d you do, what’s your _secret_ Mikaelson? Flowers? Chocolates? Serenading? I’ll break out my guitar and secret Adele skills, I’ll do it.” 

At this point Penelope’s arm was draped over her eyes and she was waiting for a response, but all she got was a snicker. “Oh god this is great.”

She lifted her arm a fraction to see Hope pointing a phone in her direction, presumably recording the whole thing. Penelope had never moved so fast in her life, and to be honest she was pretty close at catching her friend. But, she forgot Hope is much, _much_ faster. Damn hybrids.

“I swear to _god_ Mikaelson if you send that to anyone—” her threats were a bit choppy as Hope avoided one of her advances once _again_. She stopped to catch her breath and watched as the tribrid cheekily waved her phone up, opened her messages, and prepared to send. 

A quick flick of the witch’s wrist was all it took for the rug under Hope’s feet to pull some Aladdin shit, making her tumble to the floor, and the phone to slide between them. 

Eyes locked. 

They both leapt for the middle, but Hope reached it first. So, Penelope took the next most reasonable action and jumped on her back yelling explicits at her best friend. 

“Ah ah ah! Careful or I’ll send to Lizzie.” 

Penelope paused for only a second, “You're not _that_ much of a bitch.” Eyes narrowed. A challenge.

“Oh I'm not?” An ‘s’ was typed in, followed by an ‘a’, ‘l’, and ‘t’ before Penelope’s eyes widened and she dove for the phone again. Hope fumbled with the phone as the witch grappled with her in an attempt to grab it. Then it happened.

A light “shwoop” was heard between the two of them, and they froze. Eyes widened and Hope looked down. 

“Oh no no no nope not happening.” Penelope didn’t need to look at the phone to know that was the ‘sent’ sound. She rolled off of Hope’s back and landed on the floor with closed eyes.

“Not fucking happening, no I’m gonna open my eyes and when I do your last message to Lizzie better be some sappy shit or I’m going to _find_ a white oak stake and _kill_ you.” 

Hope hadn’t said anything since the sound was heard, and when she opened her eyes, the redhead’s face was more pale than usual. 

“You’re _fucking_ with me right? You sent a video of me professing my crush on her sister to my _nemesis_?” 

Her roommate’s eyes were wide and panicked when they started flitting between the phone and Penelope. The witch covers her face, “Oh my god, what’d you even _say_?” 

“My finger must’ve—um P, you’re gonna need to remember all the times where I’ve been the best friend you could ask for. Just uh—channel that love. My finger slipped.”

“Jesus Hope, I know it did that’s how we’re in this situation,” Penelope whined into her hands. 

Hope began to move away from Penelope slowly, whose face was hidden behind a pillow she seemed to be suffocating herself with. She continued with a much quieter voice while looking to the floor. 

“No like, it _slipped_. To the wrong Saltzman.” 

It was quiet for another ten seconds before Hope wondered if Penelope even heard her. 

“Pen? Are yo—”

“You don’t by any chance mean Alaric do you.” Penelope’s voice was shaking. Out of fear or out of anger, Hope doesn’t know, but it was quiet and murderously low which was an indication as to how the rest of this conversation would go. 

When she looked up for a moment, Penelope’s eyes were shut—and _hard_—when Hope elaborated.

“It sent to Josie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hooooooope is a headass
> 
> and penelope's in deep shit :)

**Author's Note:**

> ok so
> 
> what'd you think (be honest but don't hurt my feelings thanks)
> 
> drop a comment!! i wanna hear from you guys :)


End file.
